


miracle eye

by weatheredlaw



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pokemon Fusion, Established Relationship, F/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-05-01 00:38:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5185553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weatheredlaw/pseuds/weatheredlaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maxwell Ranier knows his mother didn't abandon him. After his father dies, he makes good on his childhood goal of finding her. </p><p>As always, there is history to contend with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	miracle eye

**Author's Note:**

> this is gratuitously self-indulgent. 
> 
> idk if you don't care about pokemon you won't care about this but. i care a lot about pokemon. and if you happen to care and you know nothing about pokemon, i always recommend bulbapedia.

_Message received via e-mail_

Maxwell – if you are interested in knowing what happened to your mother, it would be prudent of you to travel along Route 17, outside Kirkwall. I won’t give you more information – I find the less we know about these sorts of things, the easier it is to learn it on our own – but I am certain you will find two people there who will be able to tell you the story. Be kind, and be courteous, as I know you to be.

Yours, Dorian

 

* * *

 

Maxwell looks down at his Dex, and scowls. It’s been two weeks since he set out from Ostwick, and he’s finally reached Route 17, outside of Kirkwall, as Dorian said he would.

But there’s nothing here.

The grass rustles with wild Pokémon, of course, but for a route just outside of a city it’s…oddly scarce of trainers. He spots a few walking through the grass, creeping toward a shaking bush or looking at their Map in complete and total confusion. They’re young trainers, same as he was so many years ago. It’s been fifteen years since he first set out on his own journey, his father’s careful words at his back –

_Stay safe, and stick to the path._

_Don’t go looking for her._

He closes his eyes and swallows.

His father is dead, now. He left Max his gym, but it had been failing toward the end of his life. It had only taken a week in Maxwell’s incapable hands for the Pokémon League to come in and shut the place down. It was old, they said. His father had always refused to change the way he did things, remaining resolute in his methodology. Max remembers something his mother said, before she disappeared, before all this started – _Can’t you just let them have their way, Thom? Can’t you?_ But his father never had, even after everything changed for them. He never did anything different up until the day he died.

As a boy, after his mother was gone, Max would sit by the window of their home, imagining that each person he could not recognize was his mother returning. Perhaps the roses, carefully pruned by their gardener and his Bellossom, would draw her in. She would smell them, come home, and tell her son she had only gotten a little lost.

Max has few memories of her, but each is strong. So strong, he almost thinks he’s made them up, but he doesn’t mind either way. His favorite by far is the day he first helped her hatch an egg. That had been her greatest passion, and his father said it was her dream when they retired – to open their own daycare, to help trainers breed and raise Pokémon.

That day, Max stood on a stepstool and looked into the incubator, where a little egg was beginning to roll about.

“Do you remember the incense, Max?”

“Yes.”

“Remember we gave it to Petra?” Petra had been his mother’s Roselia, and had vanished with her.

“We let her hold it.”

“Yes. And she and Monsieur Maurice’s own Roserade made the egg. You remember what I said?”

“That it would be a very special egg.”

“Yes, my dear.” The egg in question rolled and cracked. “Look.” His mother reached into the incubator and began prying off the shell. “Come out, my sweet. Come and meet us.” The shell burst open and the tiniest thing fell into the blankets, chirping at them. “Do you know what this is?” she asked, and lifted the baby Pokémon into her arms. “This is Budew,” she said. “Isn’t he lovely?”

 

* * *

 

The Budew had disappeared with her, as all of her Pokémon had, but Max remembers them so clearly. With a sigh, he glances up at the sky. The sun is beginning to set, and he needs to either make camp, or get a room in the city. Whatever he was supposed to find on this route, he hasn’t, and he’ll tell Dorian exactly what he thinks in the morning. For now, he begins to make his way down the road, avoiding eye contact with any passing trainers who might think the middle of the night is a good time to challenge him – it’s not, and they won’t win. Max can see the lights of Kirkwall ahead, and he’s thinking about the possibility of a nice warm bath and maybe a hot meal when something catches his eye.

A house, nestled among a group of trees, sitting just off the road.

_I am certain you will find two people there who will be able to tell you the story._

“Is it you?” he wonders to himself. The house isn’t on his Map, but that hardly matters. He walks closer. There’s a light on outside, and as he steps toward the door, he sees a little metal sign attached to the wall:

_V. Tethras, Legendary Pokémon Researcher, Pokémon Happiness Specialist  
By Appointment Only_

And another under it:

_C. Pentaghast, Survival Instructor, Egg Researcher  
By Appointment Only_

Max leans in closer, narrowing his eyes. “Who—”

The door to the house swings open, and a man steps out onto the porch – with a _crossbow_ in his hands.

Max shrieks, and he isn’t ashamed of that.

“Who in the hell—”

“ _Varric!_ We discussed this, you may not fire upon visitors—”

“ _By appointment only, Pentaghast!_ ” He looks down at Max, who has fallen to the grown, shaking like a leaf. “Who are you?”

“I-I’m Max. Please, sir, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Max _who_?” The man asks. The crossbow makes a little noise.

“M-Maxwell Ranier, sir. I—”

A woman steps from behind the man. “Ranier? You are Thom Ranier’s son?”

“I am.”

She puts her hand over her mouth. “Varric, oh _Varric_ , this is—”

“Yeah, I can see that now.” Varric leans the crossbow against the wall and reaches down, hauling Max up by his jacket. “Get inside, come on now. It’s dark out here, this your first time walking down the road? You know you shouldn’t do that.”

“It’s perfectly safe outside of Ostwick—”

“ _It’s perfectly safe outside of Ostwick._ ‘Course it is. Idiot.”

“Varric, _please._ ”

Max finds himself deposited in a chair, his bag tossed into his lap. He looks around, taking in the short man and the willowy woman at his side. “I… _you’re_ an expert in Pokémon happiness?” he asks, a bit incredulous.

“I am.” Varric sniffs and reaches outside to bring in his cross bow.

The woman sighs. “I will make tea.”

“Something strong, I think.”

“It is nearly ten, Varric.”

“Yep. No better time.”

The woman rolls her eyes. “ _Ugh._ ”

 

* * *

 

“So you are searching for your mother. And Dorian Pavus told you to come here?”

“He did.”

Cassandra Pentaghast clicks her tongue. “Your father would not approve.”

“Did you know him?”

“I did, many years ago. But that is…it is rather old history.”

“You knew my mother too, then?”

Varric nods. “And you, when you were a babe. And the uncle you’re named after.”

“I have an _uncle?_ ”

“Had,” Varric corrects. “He died. You weren’t born yet, your mother and Blackwall—”

“Thom,” Cassandra says. “He isn’t Blackwall any longer.”

Max holds up his hands. “Hang on. My father had a different name? What does that mean, what was _Blackwall_ —”

Cassandra shakes her head. “There’s so much you don’t know,” she murmurs.

“Of course he doesn’t. Thom didn’t want him to know this. Damned fool if you ask me. There’s a story here, and we’re willing to tell it, but it’ll have to wait ‘til morning.”

“ _Until morning?_ You give me all this information and then expect me to wait all night?”

 _Be kind_.

“It’s late, kid.”

_Be courteous._

“We…are not quite as young as you.”

_As I know you to be._

Max sighs. “Right. Of course, I apologize. Would you like me to return in the morning, then?”

“Nonsense.” Cassandra stands. “You will stay in our spare room.”

“He’s a grown man, Pentaghast, he—”

“He is Evelyn’s _son_ , Varric.” Cassandra voice trembles.

Varric nods. “I know.” He crosses the room to her and takes her hands in his. “Forgive me, Ranger.” He kisses her wrist. “You go to bed. I’ll get him set up.”

“No, I—”

“Cassandra. Go to bed.”

She sighs. “Yes, alright.” Cassandra goes and puts a hand on Max’s shoulder. “Goodnight. We will discuss things in the morning.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

 

* * *

 

Varric gets new sheets on the guest bed and drops Max’s beg on the floor.

“Ranger’s right, we owe you a story.”

“Ranger—”

“An old title,” Varric says, his voice fond. “In the morning. We’ll talk in the morning.” Varric turns, wincing as he goes. “Must be a storm coming,” he mutters. “Damn joints.”

“Um, goodnight, Mr. Tethras—”

“It’s Varric, kiddo. Just…call me Varric.”

“Right. Goodnight, Varric.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He brushes it off, closing the door behind him.

Max collapses onto the bed, feeling his heart practically bursting. He hears a rustling in his bag, and when he opens it, he realizes his Growlithe, Mina, has managed her way out of her PokéBall, and is looking for something to eat.

“Hey, _hey_.” Max laughs and picks her up. She’s young, still small in his arms. “Alright, you. All of you, I suppose.” He only carries Mina these days. Doesn’t do much battling, considering…

No, not now. He won’t think on that now. He curls up on the bed, and feels Mina laying at his back.

“Good girl,” he murmurs. “Good girl.”


End file.
